So Long
by spinadrift
Summary: Anko thought that she cut all her ties long ago, but red threads still trail behind her. Anko/Sakura.


**So Long**

**  
Rating:** R / M for strongly suggested lesbian sex.  
**Pairing:** Anko/Sakura, hints of Sasuke/Sakura and Orochimaru/Anko.  
**Word Count:** 2,000  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Naruto_, or any of the places or characters mentioned in that series and this piece of fanfiction. No profit is being made, I write for free.

**Notes:** There are a few warnings for this one: yuri, dubious consent, and an age gap that may be squicky. If any of that bothers you, I hope you know where the back button is. ;D

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It has been a bad week, Anko realises, when she can down a cup of sake in the blink of an eye and barely register the taste.

In fact, "bad" is probably an understatement. There are only so many missions she can fail, only so many times she can get home feeling tired and sore and unsuccessful, before she starts to wonder.

Thankfully, the week is over now — it's Saturday, and she's determined to forget that any of this ever happened. A few drinks first, then a fight or two, and maybe later she'll show up at Kurenai's place for some entertainment. She's always been way too easy to wind up. It wouldn't even be worth the effort if she didn't have such a fun "I just fell for Anko's most obvious trick" face.

The bar is dark, and Anko orders another bottle as she watches people pass by on their way home. She can see her own apartment now: dingy and empty and barely lived in. Anko feels no need to head back just yet, not while she still has money in her purse and thoughts to think. The night is young, as they say, and she has frustrations that need to be worked out.

She slouches forwards against the bar, her foot kicking a subconscious rhythm against her barstool. The woman behind the bar hands her a bottle and takes her money, and Anko wastes no time in pouring herself another drink. A few more, and then she'll move on, though she isn't sure where to. There are so many places she could go.

She'll decide later. For now there's sake and a sunset to watch as she drinks.

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A half hour passes more quickly than she anticipated, and Anko is already somewhat unsteady on her feet as she makes her way into the street. There's still some light left but the shadows are long; she isn't so drunk as to forget the basic training that is so much like instinct now. Her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, Anko could just be hiding from the chill. Instead, cold metal sits reassuringly in her palm.

The street is empty, which Anko finds strange and comforting all at once. Her footsteps are the only thing she hears, until—

Stepping back into the shadows, Anko watches someone approach. Short, skinny; from the outline, it looks like a girl. Fifteen, maybe, but she isn't sure.

The girl steps into the light, and Anko grins to herself. She was close enough: girl, short, skinny, sixteen. Her boots make too much noise on the street, and she runs a hand through her pale pink hair and sighs. Anko's grin widens.

"Haruno Sakura." She steps out of the shadows and smiles pleasantly, her kunai swinging on one finger. With the sound of metal on skin, she catches it. The edge of the metal nicks her palm, and she resists the desire to watch the blood trail.

Sakura watches her for a moment, tense; then her body relaxes as she remembers. "Mitarashi-sensei," she replies, giving a polite bow. Her aura of calm is punctuated by ragged breaths, and her hair is far too messy. So she's just finished her training?

"It's getting dark. What were you doing training so late?"

"Tsunade-shishou says I need to make the most of the time I have." Sakura smiles and catches Anko up, stopping as she looks up at the older woman. "She says I'm a fast learner, but Naruto will be back soon so I don't have long." Her expression brightens.

Something in the back of Anko's mind stirs at that, but she can't remember what it is she's remembering. Something she knows… something she made it her business to know.

"Are you going home?" Anko asks instead, resting one hand on her hip. And then, before Sakura can reply— "I'll walk you back."

Sakura doesn't argue. She begins walking again, her boots scuffing on the ground. Too loud, Anko thinks. She's only a chuunin, but she should be better than this. She was better than that, wasn't she?

Cutting off the thought, she follows Sakura's boots up to where they end just below the knee. Her thighs are bare and Anko notices gooseflesh rising on her skin. The evening has a definite chill, and the setting sun doesn't help. "Cold?" Anko asks, grinning. She would offer her coat if she thought Sakura would be the type to take it.

She looks exhausted. Sakura laughs and shakes her head, though Anko has noticed all the little signs that tell her the girl is lying. Even after a bottle of sake, she can tell; she has never managed to drain all the snake venom out, and she still remembers everything she was taught so long ago.

Briefly, Anko considers stopping here and making Sakura continue on alone while she heads back for more alcohol. But there's something fun in this, she thinks – maybe she's just feeling the effects of the drink, but there's a subdued rattle somewhere inside, the thrumming of blood she gets when she's closing in on a target. Sakura is her prey now, though she doesn't intend to hurt her. Fights can wait for later.

They round a corner and Anko notices that the sun has disappeared entirely. The shadows are slowly melting into each other, bleeding grey into grey; the pink of Sakura's hair is muted. "How are your studies going?" she asks in an attempt at small talk.

Sakura looks thoughtful for a moment, her bangs rippling in front of her face as she walks. "I've learned a lot," she says finally, "and I've gotten stronger." Her focus seems to wane, and when she speaks it's more to herself than anybody else. "But there's still more for me to learn before…"

Before? Anko asks herself.

And then it hits her. The thing she was remembering, Uchiha Sasuke, team-mate of Uzumaki Naruto and… Haruno Sakura. Abandoned the village because of his curse seal.

Unconsciously, Anko's fingers slip beneath the collar of her jacket and trace the outline of her own seal. That's why she made it her business to know.

"A rescue mission?"

Sakura looks at her, confused, then nods.

For a second, Anko almost feels bad for her. Sakura's mission is doomed to fail, she knows that much. If Uchiha Sasuke desires power from Orochimaru, then nothing will stop him. And nothing will stop Orochimaru from taking whatever it is he wants from Sasuke, either.

Without thinking about it – she can't think it through or she'll end up ignoring the impulse – Anko turns to Sakura and pulls down the collar of her jacket, baring the coils of her curse seal to the cool night air. Sakura says nothing for a moment; then she gasps, delayed surprise.

Before she can speak, Anko cuts her off. "You see," she says, "I know." And before she can stop them, the lies follow. "I know what it'll take."

Sakura knows what she means. She believes it, too, because her gaze hardens and her fingers flex at her sides. "How?" she says. There are gaps in her knowledge that Anko can see her scrambling to figure out, but she won't.

Anko lurches forward suddenly, grabbing Sakura by the shoulders and pressing her back against a nearby wall. Sakura stiffens, and Anko can almost feel the thoughts forming: fight or flight? Stay or go? Should she listen and learn what Anko has to teach, or get out of this while she can?

She doesn't move.

Pleased, Anko leans in and runs her tongue along the shell of Sakura's ear, still holding tightly on to her shoulders. Her grip is strong enough to bruise but Sakura doesn't flinch.

Good girl.

Sliding one hand around to cup Sakura's breast – she's so skinny, and Anko is oddly reminded of herself at that age, thin and angry – she presses open-mouth kisses to Sakura's neck, trailing her tongue in a pattern like the curse seal. Heaven and earth and black ink, and Sakura the prey. She shivers.

Sakura is deathly still, as though she has no idea what to do, and Anko nudges her thighs open with one leg and presses it against her. Sakura trembles, but she still feels stiff and awkward. Cupping her chin, Anko kisses her; her fingers tighten on her jaw, and she slides her tongue along Sakura's, dangerously slow.

Blood racing, Anko listens to the rattle of that subdued predator in her breast and laughs a low laugh into Sakura's mouth. She sounds eerie, even to herself, but she feels drunk on power and the feeling of the young girl under her hands. So pliable, so easily tamed.

With one hand still holding Sakura against the wall, Anko takes hold of the zipper on her shirt and pulls. The skin immediately breaks out in gooseflesh at the touch of cold air, and Anko smoothes it away with warm fingertips. Sakura's breasts rise and fall with her heavy breathing.

"You love him," she whispers against Sakura's ear, tongue curling out to trace her jawline. "So did I."

With no hesitation, Sakura tilts her head so she can look Anko in the eye. "Who?"

"But love isn't everything."

Anko releases Sakura, then grabs her roughly and twists her around so that her chest is pressed against the cold stone of the wall. Her fingers curl around the top of Sakura's shorts and slip into her underwear. Sakura braces herself against the wall with her palms, and Anko can feel her trying desperately not to shake.

Kissing the back of Sakura's neck, Anko slips one finger inside her. Sakura breathes in sharply, and Anko gives her moment to relax before moving her finger in and out, slowly, agonisingly slow, so as not to hurt.

Sakura's breathing is ragged and Anko presses herself against her, trapping her between the wall and her own body. Carefully, she adds another finger, her palm flat against the curve of Sakura's body.

Using her knee to wedge Sakura's legs further apart, she increases the movements of her hand, her fingers slick and moving easily. Sakura is panting now, and she presses her forehead to the wall. Anko grins and licks the sweat from her neck.

Faster she goes, her fingers slipping in and out of Sakura with ease. Anko's palm is constant friction as it moves against her, and the girl rocks her hips to meet the thrusts of Anko's hand. Her panting becomes more desperate, and as Anko presses her fingers into her over and over again, her panting becomes choked sobs. Her hands are still braced against the wall, and Anko can smell blood as she skins her palms.

With a muffled cry, Sakura comes. She collapses back and Anko is there to catch her, pulling her close and breathing in her smell, underlaced with the scent of exertion.

Anko is still aroused, almost painfully so, but she tells herself that she will wait.

After giving Sakura a few moments to gather her breath and her wits, Anko sets her standing again, running her fingers through that soft pink hair and giving her another lingering kiss on the mouth. She almost feels bad. Sakura has been thoroughly taken advantage of.

"Strength," she says, and Sakura looks at her expectantly. "You have to be strong to bring him back." She bites back the truth: nothing will make him come but his own desire to return.

Sakura nods, once, and her fingers curl into a determined fist. Anko gives her a pointed look. "Stronger than this."

She isn't sure how Sakura takes her advice, but then it isn't her business to know.

Walking her home, Anko stops a few feet from Sakura's house and her lips unfurl into a smile. She takes hold of the fist that Sakura has carried all this time and brings it to her lips, uncurling the fingers and running her tongue along the bleeding scrapes on the girl's palm.

"Good luck," she says, more sincere than she intended, and disappears again.

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End file.
